Broken Yolk
by piercing pen
Summary: A fluffy 2shot about the idiocy of Ron, and the joys of fortune telling through the fried egg sandwiches. THE GOOD SHIP!
1. He said

**Authors Note: **hello! I know it has been FOREVER since I updated my other story, "Picking up the Pieces"...BUT PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I will get it done soon!

Broken Yolk

Part I: He said

Now, this seems stupid. But I promise it isn't. It's not really fortune-telling, and it's not something that's entirely coincidental either. Yolk-telling.

Yes, I know it's idiotic. But it's part of who I am as Ronald Bilius Weasely. Every morning, even when I'm at Hogwarts, at exactly 6:00 am, before anyone else is up and I make myself a sandwich. Not just any sandwich. It's _my _sandwich. Fried egg, still runny of course, on two pieces of toast with a glass of orange juice. That is not the weird part, though, I'm sure other people have little routines like that. But I'm a bit different with my egg. I heat up the frying pan, put in some butter (just because I'm a man doesn't mean I don't know how to cook), and crack my egg. Sometimes the yolk breaks, sometimes it stays whole but a little on one side, and sometimes I crack it and for some reason the yolk not only breaks but the egg flies across the room. I'm not saying that it's fate or divination, but whatever happens to my yolk happens to me. Not literally of course, but if the yolk breaks, and it happens to be a day on which we have potions, I can count on a particularly bad day. If my yolk is whole, but not exactly in the middle of the white, I know I'm probably going to have a fine day, not really good, not really bad. Just peachy keen….or whatever that odd muggle phrase is.

But once in a while, the egg turns out absolutely perfect. Yolk dead center and yellow as the sun; white in a perfect circle around it. And then, as yolk-telling goes, I know my day will be perfect.

This morning was not one of those days.

No, no. Today was one of those days where the yolk breaks, the white is not so white, and the egg gets everywhere but in the pan. I don't know if it's my aim or fate, but it's something.

But then, suddenly, something amazing happened. Something that made me believe in yolk-telling once and for all.

Just as my egg was about to hit the floor, Hermione walked through the door. Miraculously, the egg flew back into the pan. A perfect egg. Whole, yellow yolk; ivory white in a lovely circle around it.

Perfection.

Hermione had now progressed to a cup of tea and some toast. I was still standing wonder-struck over my perfectly fried egg. This was the omen I had been waiting for. The sign. The go-signal. Oh, yes. What else could the egg possibly mean other than the obvious, glorious sign that Hermione and I are soul mates? I mean, she walks through the door, and the egg flies back into a perfect circle. Coincidence? I think not.

But…wait. What if Hermione, being the overly-logical witch she is, does not believe in the magical powers of the sacred yolk? What if she doesn't understand about yolk-telling and such? What if she thinks I'm a dumbass? The stress is making me hungry.

What better to do than sit down and enjoy a perfect egg?

Of course, because I'm eating a perfect egg, I am definitely beginning to feel more confident. I can't help but have doubts about Hermione believing me though… So I mull over it in silence.

"Why so quiet, Ron?" she asks me. I think that's what she asks me anyway. I don't really want to answer, so I don't. Instead, I ask, "Do you want a sandwich?"

"That sounds good…yours certainly looks good," I get up to make her one, but she protests. "That's alright, I'll get it," she hasn't started her toast yet, so she places a warming spell on it and walks over to the stove. I watch her carefully, still chewing over my sandwich.

What a surprise.

Another perfect egg! I can't help but stare in disbelief; if my perfect egg wasn't already enough of a sign, the fact that her egg is perfect also certainly is. I have to plan my moves right though; as I said, Hermione is logical.

I have been struck with the most perfect idea!

Mum and Dad are going out tonight with Ginny to visit Gred and Forge in their new shop. I can fake sick, and when they leave, I'll stun Hermione, go outside, and set up a romantic candlelight dinner! Then, when she comes to, I'll confess my love!

It's flawless!


	2. She Said

Part II: She said

For the love of Christ, today has got to be one of the most idiotic days of my life. I was just trying to be helpful…Oh, but allow me to start from the beginning.

I'm an early riser. I get up at around five thirty, get ready, and come have breakfast at six thirty after reading for a half hour. Today, I decided to skip reading, and went straight down to make myself breakfast. I go into the kitchen, and I see that Ron's egg is about to go everywhere. So after a quick charm, the egg goes back into the pan.

Ron gets his sandwich, and eats it in silence and very slowly. I find this odd, so I ask the only logical question; "Why so quiet, Ron?"

So Ron, being the IDIOT that he is, replied with "Do you want a sandwich?" Maybe he misheard me. Maybe he's so STUPID that he doesn't understand what the question means. I don't know. But the sandwich he had did look good, so I said I'd make myself one. I used the same charm I had before, and the egg came out perfect (it really is a useful charm…Makes most dishes come out perfectly, I learned it in "Helpful Spells for the Home" by Bartholomew Richardson. I am getting side tracked though, aren't I?). I sit down and eat it, and it was rather tasty. I figure, "Hey, today is going to be a normal day."

How wrong I was.

We were all planning on going down to visit "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes", and by "we" I mean Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasely, Ginny, and I. It was going to be a fun time. But Ron starts getting sick. He got a fever of 103 and started throwing up in the bathroom. I am a nice person, so I volunteer to stay behind and take care of Ron while the others go and visit with the twins. I here a thump in the bathroom, and of course I think "Oh, goodness, I hope Ron hasn't fainted". When I get up there to check on him, I knock on the door. He bursts out and STUNS ME!

So I've finally come to in the Weasley's bathroom, tied to the john with a large about of toilet roll.

What should I do now? I suppose the only logical thing.

"RONALD WEASELY! LET ME GO THIS INSTANT! OOOOOOOH, YOU'RE MOTHER IS DEFINITELY HEARING ABOUT THIS ONE!"

Is that footsteps? I think I hear footsteps! Maybe he's going to let me out now!

NO! He's bloody levitating me down the bloody stairs! And now he's putting the body bind on me! I am SO angry with him!

Now he's setting me down on the couch. Great, now I'm blindfolded. I am going to kill him.

I feel like I'm moving again…I don't know where though. I am no longer body bound… I think I'm sitting in a chair now. I'm going to let him take the blindfold off of me, and then I'm going to murder him with my bare hands.

I can feel him next to me, and I think he can feel my body heat radiating off of me in waves of fury, because he's backing away, I can sense it.

"Errrr, Hermione? I'm going to take off your blindfold now. But you have to promise me that you won't kill me until you take a look around and hear what I have to say."

I grit my teeth and nod rigidly. Why not? Either way, he's still going to be dead unless his excuse is really good.

He pulls off my blindfold gingerly, and I am stunned at what I see. I am sitting at a small table with a pink tablecloth and a rose in a white vase in the center. Ron is currently lighting candles while two plates float in smoothly. One sets itself in front of me, and one in front of where Ron sits after the candles are lit. About five are suspended around us. It is absolutely beautiful.

"Ron, what is this?"

"Well, it's like a spaghetti sauce, but I put some vegetables in it; onion, zucchini, mushr-"

I have to stop Ron's inane babble about the spaghetti sauce (which is actually quite delicious)

"No, I mean why did you pretend to be sick, stun me, blindfold me, and then give me this nice dinner?"

"Oh, well, errrrr, do you promise not to laugh at me?"

"Yes," I reply.

He takes a deep breath, and starts.

"Well, this morning I woke up at five thirty. After getting dressed, I came downstairs to make my customary morning meal; a fried egg sandwich. Well, this sounds stupid, but the egg tells my fortune; sometimes the yolk breaks, sometimes it stays whole but a little on one side, and sometimes I crack it and for some reason the yolk not only breaks but the egg flies across the room. I'm not saying that its divination; Trelawney's definitely a fraud. But this is real! Whatever happens to my yolk happens to me. Not literally of course, but if the yolk breaks I can count on a bad day. If my yolk is whole, but not exactly in the middle of the white, I know I'm probably going to have a fine day, not really good, not really bad. But once in a while, the egg turns out perfect. The Yolk dead center and yellow as the sun; white in a perfect circle around it. And then, as yolk-telling goes, I know my day will be perfect.

This morning my egg was about to fly across the room, but when you came in, the egg turned into perfection."

"And this explains why you felt the need to cause me deep pain and suffering?"

"Let me finish! I saw the egg, and realized something. The egg once again has told my fortune; we are soul mates, Hermione."

"Wait, let me get this straight: You think that because your egg was about to go all over the place, and then I walk in and your egg is suddenly perfect, you think we're soul mates?"

He nods solemnly. I can't help but smile a bit at his innocence.

"Well, yeah. But the egg just confirmed it; I thought we were soul mates before, but the omen of the egg is just proof."

I grin wider.

"I mean, everything you do is wonderful; the way you do your hair in that long, brown style…The way you know everything…The way you stand up for things you believe in; like spew, which I hope you know is a horrible name for any organization…The way you fall asleep on me in the common room at night, exhausted from studying…The way you walk into the kitchen in the morning, still yawning and usually shivering because you're always cold in the morning. I just…"

He takes a deep breath.

"I think I love you."

And it's so sweet that I can't bear to tell him that I fixed his egg this morning. It's so sweet that I can't help but giggle a little. It's so sweet that I can't believe I was even mad at him five minutes ago.

---END----


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